


if i told you this was only gonna hurt

by smc_27



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 20:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13724976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: What strikes her is how familiar, how normal all this terror is. Like, oh, people are just out in the world making weapons to kill the people she cares about, and at this point she’s been living with that for so long it’s just the way it is. Even the last couple years of no mayhem, little trouble, and she slips back into this with an ease that should scare the shit out of her.





	if i told you this was only gonna hurt

It takes exactly for 14 months for the reality to set in. 

Alaric asks her, when she starts getting particularly ‘moody’, as he says, and her reply is pretty simple. 

“I used to be surrounded by vampires and now I’m the only one left. Literally the only one.” 

They’re alone in her bedroom, which happens rarely, and she’s feeling vulnerable and emotional and _scared_. 

Alaric says, “Not the only one,” and leaves the room and honestly, Caroline doesn’t even know what to do with that.

… … …

“You can’t just say things like that and then not elaborate.” 

Okay, so it’s a week later and she’s been stewing about it, but that is neither here nor there. Alaric just chuckles and looks down at his papers, which just isn’t good enough for her. He obviously knows what she’s talking about. He’s probably just been waiting for her to bring it up. 

“He gave us three million dollars.” Okay, so _fine_ , that’s true. “Actually, let’s be honest. He gave _you_ three million dollars. That letter wasn’t addressed to me and he doesn’t want to fu…”

“Ric!”

There are literally children around. 

He laughs again. 

He sets down his pen and clasps his hands. “He didn’t break out the good parchment on my account, is all I’m saying.” 

Caroline sighs. “I don’t know what to _do_ with that. Like, should I get in touch with him just because he’s honestly one of the only vampires I know that’s left?” She whispers that last part, looks around to make sure none of the kids are listening. “And I lost my husband.” Ric looks down again. God, there’s just so much weight to that, and to this, between them. He’s lost his wife and he’s lost Caroline and she’s lost almost everything. It’s this terrible thing they have in common. “I’m not ready to...I’m not ready.” 

Alaric gives her a little smile, like he knows her better than she realizes or remembers. “I’m not saying you have to spend all eternity with the guy. Lord only knows what bullshit and trauma are left in his future.” Terrifying, but true. “And really, I didn’t say anything about _dating_ him. I just meant maybe they’d be good people to get in touch with.” Caroline narrows her eyes questioningly. Alaric looks almost ashamed, or something. “Who’s going to look out for you when we’re all gone?”

The way he says it lets her know it’s something he’s been thinking about a long time. Probably even before Stefan. Probably even since they were together. 

She says, “I’m not some damsel in distress,” because it’s a joke and she needs to break the tension and she feels tears welling in her eyes, because honestly, she already feels alone.

… … …

She’s helping Bonnie clean out the closets in her house, because apparently she’s a packrat and there’s just _so_ much stuff from high school that Bonnie’s held onto. She invited Caroline and Elena over for some red wine and a walk down memory lane, but Elena’s on call and so it’s just the two of them. It feels a little weird, but Caroline’s really doing her very best not to start feeling sad that...Well, she’s not even really sure what she’s sad about, but it’s there, burning the back of her throat for most of the night. 

“Oh my god,” Bonnie says eventually, covering her face with her hand. She passes Caroline the photo of the two of them from the summer before freshman year. They’re in awful one-piece swimsuits in Elena’s backyard; she must’ve been the one with the camera. Caroline’s hair is wet and Bonnie’s sunglasses are hideous and huge. She can’t remember that day at all, probably mostly because there were just so many like it. 

“Keeper,” Caroline says with a chuckle, setting the photo in the keepsake box to her left. 

There are tons of photos of all of them through the years. She laughs at the ones where she and Tyler are in the same photo but looking annoyed that they have to be near each other. There’s one in the Gilbert’s kitchen, where Jeremy looks about 11 and he’s wearing Power Rangers pajamas in the background. They find one from Caroline’s 15th birthday where she’s blowing out candles on her cake and her mom’s standing there next to her looking like she couldn’t be more in love with her kid. 

Bonnie starts a new box for Caroline to take with her. 

“You have _so many trinkets_ ,” Caroline laughs, sometime around 10:30, when she’s opened up another drawer to find all sorts of little figurines and amulets. 

“Look, I come from a family of witches. You never know what has magic and what doesn’t.” She’s laughing, too, starts taking things out of the drawer. She does some sort of test by holding things in the palm of her hands and then either puts things in the donation box or on top of the dresser. 

She moves something aside in the drawer and Caroline hears Bonnie gasp, and when she looks over to see what’s wrong, what she sees are the proofs of the invitations she made when she was planning a wedding before her fiancé made a deal with the devil. 

Her heart wrenches in her chest. 

She reaches for the paper, but Bonnie sets her hand over Caroline’s. “Don’t,” Bonnie says gently, like Caroline’s just torturing herself by even picking it up. As if living her life after her husband’s death isn’t about as torturous as it gets. So yeah, she picks up the paper. “Caroline.” 

“Why do you have this?” It comes out more like an accusation than she wants it to. It’s really unintentional, she just forgot this thing even existed. God, they didn’t even print the whole batch. That’s how quickly everything went to shit. 

Bonnie smiles gently, shrugs her shoulder just slightly. “I found it at the boarding house after he…I didn’t want you to have to see it every day, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.” 

Caroline presses her lips together. She feels the tear fall from her eye. She _hates_ that everything still hurts this much, but god, if anyone gets that, it’s her best friend. 

“These are really great invitations,” Caroline says, and tries to make herself laugh. It comes out sounding more like a sob. “It would have been a gorgeous wedding.” 

“Caroline,” Bonnie says, brow furrowed, “it _was_.” 

Caroline nods, because she isn’t going to argue, and she feels so fucking guilty for ever feeling even for a second that their wedding wasn’t what she wanted. What she wanted was to be married to him, and she’s never going to stop being this angry that she only got that for like six hours.

Bonnie carefully takes the invitations from her, sets them right back in the drawer. 

“I’ll keep them for you.” 

Caroline wraps her arms around Bonnie and doesn’t even try to stop crying. She feels Bonnie’s tears drop onto her shoulder, too, and she knows for a fact that they’re crying for themselves and for each other. No one else gets it, understands this feeling.

“You know I love you,” Bonnie says, and Caroline nods and says, “You too,” and honestly, she wonders how she can feel so empty when she’s got this much love in her life.

… … …

She is rarely, if ever, alone. Her house is full of kids and teachers and friends, and even though Damon and Elena built a brand new, gorgeous house across town, one or both of them is always in the boarding house. Like, every day. Damon doesn’t work because he has a couple hundred years worth of savings, and Elena’s a freaking doctor. They’re good on money and Caroline is honestly so, so happy for them and the life they’re building. 

But she needs a break. She feels like it’s been weeks since anyone’s left her alone, other than to sleep or to shower, and the only person who seems to notice she’s on edge is Jeremy. And for all he’s done and is doing around the school to help and to teach, she never seems to be able to really relax around him. 

He says, “Get the hell outta here before you literally start pulling out your hair. You’re too hot to have any weird bald spots.” 

It’s so _Jeremy_ that it makes her laugh out loud and tip her head back. 

She drives around for a while, her new favourite band’s music turned up and the windows down. Jeremy’s comment about her hair makes her feel like putting the windows down and getting it all messed up. She drives for two hours and then starts coming back, and she sees Damon sitting on the porch of their house, reading, as she’s coming back into town. He waves and she slows down. She’s had her alone time. Sometimes she misses her alone with Damon time. 

“Hey, stranger,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. He literally saw her yesterday. 

“What?” she asks, sounding tired, and sits down next to him.

He shrugs, puts his finger between the pages of his book, and smirks at her. He’s really still the same person, even stripped of his vampirism. 

“You look like the weight of the world is off your shoulders.” She rolls her eyes at that, but she really can’t say for certain whether or not she looks different. God, she just drove around, got a fancy coffee, and sang along with the music for a while. “How are you?” 

Every once in a while, he’s this sincere. He still tries, she thinks, to act like the bad boy everyone expects him to be. It’s a little different with her. He lost Stefan, too. 

“I just needed a break,” she confesses, and she doesn’t want to say more unless he asks. He probably won’t. He knows her better than to push. (Well, unless she really needs it.)

“I think we can all survive without you for a bit.” he says it quietly, like he isn’t really sure how she’s going to take to it. She glances over at him. “You’ve got...There’s a lot of world to see. Trust me.” 

She sighs. It’s really super messed up that no one seems to want to just say it outright - she’s going to outlive them all and she should start experiencing her life away from this place, because after they’re all gone, she’ll need _something_. She feels completely the opposite. She’s going to outlive them all and she wants to spend as much time with them as possible. Particularly her kids and her best friends. 

“I feel like everyone’s trying to get rid of me,” she says, like a confession, because it’s the truth, really, and she hasn’t said it out loud until now. There’ve been all these comments, mostly from Elena, about Caroline needing to do some things for herself. It’s really taking a lot to try not to feel offended. 

“Everyone’s worried about…”

“Oh my god,” she blurts, and leans forward in her chair. “You all have these weird, mortal issues to deal with like, sickness, and money, and romance, and jobs, and yet you’re spending all your energy projecting your concern onto me.” Damon blinks, tilts his head. She likes that he recognizes that she isn’t done. “Your idyllic little front porch, practically white picket fence existence _has_ to be a cover for how _fucked up_ you both are over everything that’s happened.”

She’s breathing heavily. Damon’s just waiting. She lets out another curse and slouches back in her chair. 

“You done?” 

“No,” she bites out, but then laughs, because she is. That’s exactly what she’s feeling right now. Done. Tired and sad and _done_. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”

He looks at her like she’s speaking a language he doesn’t know. 

“What the fuck is _normal_?”

… … …

She thinks too hard about what Damon said. She’s running herself a bath, because she won’t be denied the simple luxury of some expensive aromatherapy, a glass of wine, and some candles. The second she’s in the water with her eyes closed, someone knocks on her bedroom door, and she takes a deep breath and says she’ll be out in a half hour. 

Maybe it’s a weird thing, but she remembers from her childhood, her mom coming home from work and going up to sit in the bath. It was her mom’s way of relaxing after a stressful day and actually having some time alone before a full evening of homework, cooking, and other single-parenting. Caroline learned to leave her mother alone for that half hour or 45 minutes, and realized, maybe too late, that part of the reason for that bath was also because chasing people down on foot as she aged also took its toll on her body. 

Caroline likes carrying on this tradition, even if her mother will never know about it. 

Even just thinking about it triggers her to wonder what normalcy even is. And not in an existential way, but in a literal, this entire town and everyone and everything she knows is a mess and has been for almost as many years as Caroline can even remember. The first time she heard the term ‘animal attack’ seems so blurred around the edges that it doesn’t even matter. Damon’s point is that even their normal is a mess, and if it wasn’t, there’d be something else to worry about. Maybe she should feel bad about talking to him the way she did, but he can take it. Even as a human, he’s not as delicate as she likes to tease him for.

When she goes back downstairs in her pajamas and Alaric and the girls are making mac and cheese and, frankly, a disaster in the kitchen, she smiles and leans against the counter. 

“Feeling better?” Jo asks, and Caroline smiles and nods, because _this_ makes her feel better.

Terrifying, then, that it’s also the exact thing she feels like she needs to get away from.

… … …

“Where would I even go?” she asks Damon as soon as he’s answered the phone. 

“Anywhere.” He doesn’t even miss a beat. “That’s the whole point.”

… … ...

She shouldn’t be here, and she didn’t even consider it until she rings the doorbell and hears it chime inside, old and foreboding, which makes total sense and scares the shit out of her.

Her entire body feels cold as ice as she walks through the place and sees people who may or may not know who she is, where she’s from and what she’s been through. She goes exactly where she was told, doesn’t veer off course or explore or even really look into any of the rooms she’s walking past. 

She stands in the doorway and he’s by the window, curtains blowing inside and his phone in his hand. He looks _good_ , and she wonders if this is really just the first time she’s ever seen him when he wasn’t plotting against someone. 

“Hi.” It comes out small and weak, but it’s enough to make him look at her, and when his eyes meet her, she can tell he’s in shock at her presence. Not entirely surprising, since she did show up uninvited. “Elijah let me in.” 

“Caroline.” 

She’s always liked the way he says her name. 

“I saw Hope downstairs. She’s adorable.” 

She’s about to start rambling and she hopes he’ll stop her before she really gets going. He sets his phone down, turns fully towards her. There’s 20 feet between them and she can’t decide whether to step into the room or to leave and forget she ever started driving and pointed her car towards New Orleans the second she was outside Mystic Falls town limits. 

“This place is amazing. Massive and a little creepy, but I like it. It’s... “ She watches the smile spread across his lips before he looks down at the ground, as if he’s thinking she hasn’t changed. Which isn’t the truth, but she doesn’t want to start anything. “What?” 

“Why don’t you come have a seat?” he suggests, and it sounds too calm, too routine, like she’s here every other day and they’re about to have a chat. She wants to decline the offer, but she’s the one who came here out of the blue, so she can’t exactly say she doesn’t have time to stay.

He reaches for a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. Because of course he has a bar in his bedroom. 

Shit, she’s in his bedroom. 

“What brings you to New Orleans, love?” 

Oh, _god_. 

He looks over at her when she takes too long to answer. 

“I don’t even know.” It’s honest, even if it’s not helpful to either of them. She really has no idea. She didn’t think of what to say to him, what to do, or how to react when she saw people she knows who _aren’t_ him. For instance, she and Rebekah aren’t exactly best friends. 

He sits down across from her, leans forward to hand her a glass. His shirt is a black v-neck, which surprises her not at all, and it’s stretched tightly across his chest. His fingers don’t bump hers as he passes her the drink. She feels nervous. 

The longer they go without talking, the more awkward she feels. She wants to apologize for barging in, get up and leave and forget the whole thing. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come from him, not her, and he isn’t even looking at her. His elbows are on his knees and he’s looking at the floor or the liquid in his glass as he swirls it around. “About Stefan.”

Her breath catches in her throat. 

It never even once crossed her mind that he’d say anything about Stefan at all. How naive was that?

“You don’t have to…” She shakes her head. He barely looks up, but she catches his eye. “It wasn’t your fault.”

That’s not the manner in which he’s apologizing and she knows it. 

“Stefan was my friend,” Klaus says, and he sounds the slightest bit defensive. She doesn’t even really blame him. “He was a good person.” Caroline just nods, and doesn’t trust her voice to work. She might start crying, and that would be just _so_ tragic. “You’re looking incredible as ever.”

She laughs. She can’t help it. Not because it’s corny or inappropriate or _wrong_ , even, but because they’re literally talking about her dead husband and he found a way to compliment her that actually makes her feel good. 

The smile on his face...He’s a beautiful, beautiful man. 

“How long are you in town?” She shrugs her shoulder. She hasn’t thought that far ahead. She told Alaric she was heading out of town, mentioned where she might end up, and he told her to take as much time as she needs. He’s the only one who knows where she is. “Where are you staying?” 

“An Airbnb.” He grins again, probably because she’s usually so talkative and he makes her so nervous she can barely speak. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Caroline feels warm all over, which is about as rare as you can imagine, and squeaks out, “Now?”

Klaus laughs. “It’s 3:30, darling, but sure. If you’d like.” She rolls her eyes. “You can spend the afternoon here. Rest.”

She feels like she’s settling into this, into being around him.

“Do I look tired to you?” she quips. 

He shakes his head, and his face goes serious again. She watches him blink slowly and take a sip of his drink, eyes moving over her face. 

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” he asks, and it’s innocent enough, but she just laughs again, shrugs her shoulders, and figures that he knows as well as she does the exact day she started losing sleep. 

She’s been exhausted for years.

He takes the glass from her, sets it on the table, and then reaches for her hand. She places it in his and stands. He doesn’t move from his spot, though she isn’t sure what she was expecting anyway. 

“Fourth door on the left. Make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m not staying here,” she tells him, because it feels important, and then it also feels important to note that this is the closest she’s physically been to him since they kissed however many years ago. 

“Suit yourself.”

The fact that he’s not trying to _make_ her, makes her start thinking about why this interaction with him feels so, so different from every other one they’ve ever had. 

He’s changed. 

“Just a nap,” she says, and feels the corners of her mouth turning upward. He grins and nods, once, towards the door. 

… … …

She wakes up and it’s dark, and she’s so disoriented it takes her a full 30 seconds to realize what’s going on. She feels dizzy and lightheaded and then remembers what happened earlier and who granted her permission to sleep in this room. She sits up a bit and the blanket falls around her hips. She doesn’t remember covering herself over; she didn’t honestly think she’d fall asleep. 

Her bags are set beside the dresser. She didn’t do that, either. 

She checks her phone and sees that it’s 10:30. She’s been sleeping for hours, and she’s starving, and she’s _angry_. After folding the blanket neatly, she marches over, grabs her things, and heads back down the hall. The room he was in earlier is empty, so she goes downstairs, struggling with her things the whole time because she’s _that stubborn_. She doesn’t need his help, and she certainly doesn’t appreciate that he clearly isn’t listening to her. 

Elijah and Klaus are standing with someone else, all three of them with glasses of blood in their hands. They’re each wearing smiles, and she doesn’t understand that in the slightest, because she knows she looks pissed and she’s currently accidentally banging her luggage against the railing of the staircase.

None of them offers to help. She’ll give them that - they at least comprehend what’s going on and why she’s so bothered.

“I told you I’m not staying here,” she bites out, looking solely at Klaus and not at Elijah or this other guy. Who she vaguely registers as super attractive and tries to remember if she might know his name. 

“And then you fell asleep for six hours.” Klaus’ argument is weak and the look on her face lets him know she thinks that’s irrelevant. “Can’t have you traveling around at night time alone.” 

“Okay, _don’t_ make it sound like I can’t protect myself.”

“That’s not…” Klaus stops himself. He sounds as angry as she is. When he starts talking again, his tone is more even, less upset. It’s like he’s making a solid effort not to be an asshole. Something new for him, she thinks. Elijah and the other guy both just look to their glass. God, she’d love it if they’d share. “There is nuance to New Orleans that you don’t yet know. Why do you think we live in this fortress?”

Okay, that makes _some_ sense. 

“If you’re trying to scare me into…”

“I’m not,” Klaus says, and it’s the first time she’s ever heard him sound earnest. “We can chat about it over dinner.”

Caroline rolls her eyes, walks over and takes the glass from his hand, has a drink. Elijah smirks and looks to the ground. She takes a minute to study all three of them, and wonders how on earth three people could be so attractive. 

Then she realizes this is the first time she’s been around even this many vampires in ages, and she feels comfortable, like herself, like she doesn’t have to hide anything or pretend. It’s such a relief that she very nearly feels badly for being such a brat. 

“Are you three the New Orleans Vampire Community welcome committee?”

Elijah and the new guy laugh. Caroline doesn’t mind the way she seems to entertain them. 

“Come,” Klaus says, sets his hand on her hip and pushes, just the slightest bit, towards the door at the edge of the room. “Let’s get you a refill.” 

It’s exactly what she needs, and she won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know that. 

… … …

She spent the night because there was no reason to leave. She was up until nearly 4am learning about witches and werewolves and vampires, with Klaus, Elijah and Marcel giving her the rundown of how things have been and where they stand now. They assure her that the Airbnb she booked is in a neutral part of the city, where she shouldn’t find herself in any trouble. That doesn’t honestly make her feel any better. She’s had such a long stretch of not having any vampire drama, it’s difficult to feel at ease knowing a war could break out at any moment. 

Even so, she doesn’t regret coming. 

She heads downstairs again after a shower and changing into jeans and a UVA crewneck she stole from Alaric. It’s a touch too big, but she makes it work. This time, she leaves her things in the room because she wants to have help out with them, not because she plans on sleeping in this room again. 

Maybe it’s just that she misses her children, but there are tears in her eyes when she walks into the kitchen and sees Klaus at the table, Hope sitting on his knee in her Snow White pajamas and her hair all out of sorts. She’s got a colouring book open and some crayons, and she hears Klaus say, “That’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

Heart-melting kind of stuff, to be honest. 

He looks up and sees her there, and a flash of concern washes over his face. Caroline plasters on a smile because she doesn’t want to cry in front of this little girl. She says good morning and Hope offers a little wave. 

“Coffee?” Caroline asks, and then there’s a hand on her back and Elijah slips past her easily, offers to make her an americano, and she just nods because this is _weird_. 

They’re a family. 

Hope, as it turns out, is a chatty little thing, which Caroline knows something about, since her own daughters are constantly talking about something. The girl goes on and on, and shows Caroline all the pictures she’s coloured in her book. They’re creative and really adorable, and when Elijah sets the coffee cup down in front of her and asks how she’d like her eggs, Caroline answers and looks across the table at Klaus. He’s just smiling at her. This really weird thing is happening where she feels like she might belong, and it’s scaring the hell out of her. She’s got a house and a life and a family. She shouldn’t feel this good about being around these people she literally hasn’t seen in years.

Klaus follows her upstairs shortly after she’s started putting her things together so she can leave. She feels two seconds from crying and she hears his footsteps coming down the hall, but doesn’t have time to pull herself together before he’s in the room. 

“You should stay,” he says, and he sounds very serious and almost insistent, almost like he’ll be upset with her if she leaves. Which really won’t sway her decision one way or the other. But still, she tucks her toiletry bag into her suitcase and starts shaking her head. 

“I don’t know what I’m even doing here. This place is terrifying. This city is.” Klaus sighs, moves closer. Caroline holds out her hand to stop him.

If he touches her, she’ll absolutely lose it. 

As it is, a tear falls down her cheek and he just looks at her. 

“I feel so goddamn _alone_ all the time, and then I come here and it’s like...there’s this weird bond. I’m not the only vampire and I’m not the only one with the ability to protect everyone. And everyone in Mystic Falls is so fucking _happy_ and _human_ and it’s like they’ve all just miraculously forgotten how much of a disaster everything was before, and how much we had to lose to get to this point.” 

She’s a little hysterical. Klaus crosses the room and stands right in front of her. He doesn’t touch her and she wonders why not. 

“Keep going,” he prompts; commands. “What else?”

Caroline puts her hands on his chest, fingers digging in just a little. She takes longer to respond than she wants to, because even when she tries, the words just won’t come out. 

“Most of the time, I walk around feeling completely dead inside.”

He looks like he’s really not emotionally equipped to deal with this. She can’t blame him. She’s dumping years of feelings onto him and expecting him to know how to respond. And she doesn’t, really. She just doesn’t have anyone else to tell. 

He asks, “So why are you here?” as though he already knows the answer. 

Caroline looks up at him, right into his eyes. 

“I wanted to be with you,” she admits quietly. His face is stoic. He grits his teeth like he’s biting back words or a smile or any sort of other reaction. “Say something.” 

There’s a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, then. He’s still not touching her. 

“Stay.” 

She’s absolutely terrified by how much she enjoys the way he speaks to her. She shouldn’t. 

“Okay.” 

It’s practically a whisper, and then his hand comes up and his fingers slide through her hair by her shoulder. He sits on her bed while she puts her things away and rambles on about how she hates living out of suitcases. She sets her book on the bedside table and he glances at the title, then catches her by the hand and suggests she let him take her somewhere. 

They both know that at this point she’s unlikely to say no. 

… … …

They stroll through the cemetery and Caroline sticks her hands into the pockets of her jeans when the wind blows through the tombs like a wind tunnel. She knows he’s not, but it feels like he’s trying to go toe to toe with her and remind her of all the people and things he’s lost in his lifetime. It’s a competition he’d win if they were playing that game, and Caroline’s never doubted that. She has a pretty good read on him, always did, and she thinks that makes him really uncomfortable. He walks next to her with his hands clasped behind him. Sometimes the light catches his face just right and he looks so good it makes her uncomfortable. 

They come to a particular tomb and there’re a few lilies withered and dried up, blown a bit askew. 

Camille. 

He reaches down and arranges the flowers, though they’re clearly dead, too, and god, there’s some kind of poetry in that, isn’t there?

Caroline puts her hand on his shoulder. He turns his head just slightly, like the touch surprises him. She doesn’t know who Camille was to him, but she doesn’t want to ask right now. Clearly the woman was important and she won’t interrupt him as he hangs his head, then reaches out to touch the stone with just the tips of his fingers. 

They continue walking a little further and it’s a few minutes before he says anything. 

“Your mother, Tyler, Stefan.” He doesn’t elaborate. She doesn’t know why he’s saying this. “They’re just the start.”

“Klaus,” she says, and she’s a little pissed, because that is just the most insensitive thing she can imagine right now. 

“It’s not my intention to be cruel,” he says, glances over at her. “I’m trying to prepare you. If you take every loss as hard as this, you’ll be miserable your entire life.” 

She stops dead in her tracks, and he sighs and turns so he’s facing her. It’s like he’s tired of her, or something, or maybe just preparing for a fight. Well, if he didn’t want to deal with that, maybe he shouldn’t have picked one. 

“Stefan and I were _married_ ,” she says with a conviction even she wasn’t expecting. “I was his wife. He died on our wedding day. After all the stuff we had to go through to get to that day. Don’t you dare stand there and tell me I shouldn’t be sad about that.” Klaus blinks at her. “And honestly, you, of all people, shouldn’t get to lecture anyone on getting over things. You hold grudges like no one I’ve ever met.” His eyes harden and he glares, daring her to continue on talking this way. She’s not afraid of him. “Or need I remind you of you and your decades long tour of travelling caskets. God.”

“You know not of what you speak.” 

She puts one hand on her hip, raises her brow. “Oh, really? Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t lash out with ten times more violence the second anyone hurts even one of your feelings.” 

“Caroline.” It’s a warning. She doesn’t care.

“You can’t even argue. So yeah, deal with your own shit before you tell me to get over mine.”

She starts walking again, quicker than before, just to put space between them. She hears him start again, walking behind her. He doesn’t catch up. He doesn’t say a word. 

… … …

Elijah brings her a glass of blood. She’s been in her room since they returned from their morbid walk and ensuing fight. Klaus hasn’t spoken to her and she doesn’t care. She’s rethinking staying, but she’s too stubborn and doesn’t want to go to the trouble of packing everything again. She’s just sitting on her bed with her laptop open. She just finished Facetiming her kids and her heart feels full again. Elijah taps gently on the door and she smiles when she sees him. He steps into the room and extends the glass to her. 

Honestly, this is just confirming what she’s always thought - he’s the caretaker of the family, the one who ensures everyone has what they need. And he’s a good host, too. She thinks maybe they have all those things in common. 

“You’ll have to excuse Niklaus. He means well, though his execution leaves room for improvement.”

She’s actually a little surprised Klaus told Elijah anything at all.

Caroline raises her brow, but she’s smiling. “I don’t have to do anything.” 

“Touché,” he chuckles, and asks, “May I?” while gesturing to the edge of the bed. She nods, so he sits down, unbuttons his jacket. She wonders if he acts like such a gentleman to somehow make up for the fact that he’s a vampire - like being this dapper makes up for the monster inside him. “He’s trying to help you.” 

“I get that, but he doesn’t have to be such a dick about it.” 

Elijah smirks. “He has his way, everyone else has theirs.” She doesn’t want to roll her eyes. She really does her best not to. “Dare I say he’s worried.” Caroline closes her laptop. This conversation feels too heavy to act like she can just go back to shopping for shoes. “It’s taken him a thousand years to develop emotionally the way most people do in about 20.” 

“I don’t need him to point out that everyone I love is going to die before me.”

That’s it. That’s the heart of it. Maybe she’s struggling with grief, but she’s not stupid. 

“And what will you do then?” he asks, and it’s gentle, as though he knows she’s been thinking about it and that eventually someone was going to ask and she’d have to say an answer out loud. 

“Come back here. Live with you all.”

“Would you like to know a secret?” Caroline nods her head, and Elijah stands, buttons his jacket again, and he’s looking down at her when he says, “I’m not sure he wants to wait that long.” 

Caroline grips the glass in her hand harder, doesn’t know what to say. Elijah leaves without another word. 

Really, that wasn’t a secret at all. 

But Klaus said ‘however long it takes’, and so really, she’s wondering, what’s the truth?

… … …

Klaus is in a room that looks to be solely for his paintings and where he works. He’s standing with his back to her, hands by his side, but a brush in one. She knows for a fact he knows someone is here; this house is old and solid and yet with heightened hearing you can tell where everyone is at any given moment. She’s sure he actually loves that; it’s probably why he moved in here in the first place.

“Can I come in?” 

The way he says, “Make yourself at home,” makes her wonder if he heard her and Elijah’s conversation, too. 

It’s dark in here, and she has no idea how he can actually see what he’s doing. There’re some candles lit, but the overhead light is off and it’s dark outside, so even though the windows are open it’s doing nothing to throw light onto the canvas. She can’t make out what he’s painting. She doesn’t know why that matters. 

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.” 

He turns his head, then, and he looks angry. “You shouldn’t use that word to describe yourself.” 

“Are you saying you wouldn’t?” she asks, and she’s joking. He doesn’t laugh. She walks forward and runs her fingers along the edge of the table where his paints and brushes are. “You’ve just always known the exact way to push my buttons.” He smiles a bit. “That’s not a good thing.” 

“Beg to differ.” 

It lands as an overtly sexual statement, and Caroline feels all the blood in her system rushing to her cheeks and then to directly between her legs. He’s just staring at her like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. 

“Don’t,” she says, and he smiles and looks to the ground. “I don’t think we know how to do this.” 

“And what is this, exactly?” 

It’s a valid question, and she doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She didn’t come here to strike up a romantic relationship with him. Which is interesting, because she feels this _pull_ that makes her feel like they’re inevitable. It’s totally confusing, really. Does she feel that way because they’ve got insane chemistry, or does she feel that way because his words have always made it seem like he just _knows_? 

“Be friends.” 

Klaus sighs like he’s tired, or doesn’t want to talk anymore, or...Frankly, it’s like he’s disappointed with that answer. It makes her feel strange, because she knows he’s got this habit around her of just saying exactly what he feels. So she’s just standing here waiting for it. 

“I’ve made it clear I don’t want to be your friend, Caroline.” 

She picks up a paintbrush as if she has any idea how to use it. Really, she just needs something to do with her hands. 

“What if that’s all I can give you?” she asks, and then he’s right in front of her, reaches out and adjusts the paintbrush in her hand so she’s actually holding it properly. She likes the way his fingers touch hers; feels herself breathing a little quicker. 

“It’s all you’re willing to.” It’s barely an argument. Like, if she’s not willing, then it’s a no go. He seems to know that. “You’re not as much of a mess as you think you are.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” She looks up at him. He reaches up with his free hand - he’s still holding hers in the other - to push the hair off her face, watches himself do it. He’s so close it would take about a half second to just lean up and kiss him, and that’s exactly what she wants to do. “Klaus.” 

“You like me,” he states, an he’s so confident it makes her want him even more. He’s not wrong. She’s so damn attracted to him. “You’re hesitating because you feel you shouldn’t want such a monster and you shouldn’t want someone other than Stefan.” 

First things first: “You’re not a monster.” He smiles a bit. He’s _not_ , and even though she once thought that, and even though he’s done so many terrible things, she realizes now that the things they have to do to survive, to protect people, are often as ugly and evil and wrong as they are necessary. 

She doesn’t want to talk with him about Stefan. She thinks that’s something she’s got to reconcile on her own. 

Her hand lands on his hip, and she feels the muscle even there. He flinches just the slightest bit, surprised she’s touching him, probably, but he’d also probably never admit to that. 

“What’s the point of living forever if you don’t get to have the things you want?”

It’s a freaking heavy question, and if she didn’t know him even as well as she does, she’d think he was just saying it to get her into bed. But this trip, even though it’s been less than two days, he seems different. He seems more willing to actually wait, which may be a result of her coming to him this time. Or maybe he sees that she’s a little bit broken and doesn’t want to push her. 

She must take too long to answer, and give him the impression that she disagrees or is just never going to give in and let herself have anything with him. He tries to pull away, as if he’s embarrassed to have put it out there and she’s denying him, or something. 

The paintbrush is still in her hand when she grabs at his shirt to keep him close. Her other hand slides up his chest and around the back of his neck, and his eyes are on hers until she glances at his lips. 

She’s barely gotten out the words, “Kiss me,” before his lips are over hers and he’s pressing her back against the table. She hears the paintbrush fall to the ground and he lifts her up. Her legs go around him so easily and this is _crazy_ , but the way he touches her is always so different from anyone else, and despite the way he talks to her, the way he sees her, he’s never once treated her like she’s going to break if he’s a little rough. 

Her fingers tug at his hair when he kisses the side of her neck, but they break apart when they hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Klaus moves away from her, brushes the tips of his fingers against his lips, and Caroline sets her feet on the floor. She walks out of the room and back to her own, and they basically resolved nothing, but she doesn’t even care. 

Being with him makes her feel more alive than she has in years.

… … …

She wakes up before anyone else, and feels like despite the fact that she’s been here more than a day, she hasn’t seen New Orleans at all. Well, other than this compound and a creepy cemetery and the walk from one to the other. There’s history and culture and food here, and she wants to explore that a bit. 

She also needs a little time alone. She’s sure no one will worry she’s been snatched from the compound without them knowing, but she leaves a note in the kitchen anyway and just assumes that whoever finds it first will tell the others. 

She walks a few blocks down the street until things start getting a little more busy, and she asks a couple who she assumes are locals where to get the best coffee within walking distance. They tell her in thick Louisiana accents the name of the place they go every Sunday morning before church, and Caroline finds that so lovely she gets a little emotional. 

Yeah, she’s trying really hard here not to be a basket case. 

She gets a coffee and pain au chocolat and sits by the window to watch people strolling down the street. It’s the same as anywhere else, really; she’s not in a particularly old part of town and it’s just like being in any other American city. The coffee is amazing and she’ll definitely be coming back for another of these pastries. She asks the barista what she should do next, and she likes this trend of asking random people for recommendations and planning her day accordingly. 

Then she remembers there are parts of town she’s supposed to stay away from. 

Right. This place is a hotspot of magic and mayhem. Cool. 

The park the barista mentioned is smack in the middle of witch territory, so Caroline avoids that and ends up walking down a little street lined with boutiques and flanked by a bar at either end. She buys herself a dress she doesn’t need and asks the cashier where she should go for lunch. 

When she gets back to the compound mid-afternoon, there are a few more vampires around than there has been recently. She ignores the way they’re all looking at her like they know exactly who she is, and heads straight for the stairs to go up to her room. 

Klaus is lying on her bed, reading her book. 

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, which could come off as a little bold, but you know what? He’s invited her to stay here and she should be able to expect just a little bit of privacy.

“Waiting for you.” He doesn’t put the book down. “Good day, love?” 

This is weirdly domestic and it’s making her uncomfortable. 

“I needed some time alone.” It’s mostly the truth. She also just doesn’t want to go back to Mystic Falls and not be able to tell anyone what she did on her trip other than spend time with him. “Don’t you have something to do?”

She’s sort of teasing. He looks at her over the top of her book. “It’s not safe for you to be out alone. One foot into the wrong neighbourhood and...I did my best to give you your independence.” 

She kicks off her shoes and goes to sit next to him on the bed, her hip brushing against his. She sets her hand on his stomach. Whatever; if they’re going to act like any of this is _normal_ , she might as well lean into it. 

“That’s a really interesting way to say you’re worried about me.” He sighs. She likes bugging him. He should get used to that. “And I am independent. I don’t need you to _give_ me that. I could just as easily be alone across town. I’m choosing to be here.” 

Klaus’ fingers drag up her forearm. She’s glad she closed the door behind her this time. 

“And why is that?”

She shoves him a bit and he laughs. “You know why.” 

He tugs on her arm so she leans down closer to him. His other hand sinks into her hair. “Tell me again,” he commands. 

She says, “No,” just to be a brat, and his eyes narrow. 

Caroline pulls back and he looks bothered just until she slings one leg over him so straddling his hips. His hands land on her thighs over her jeans and she rests hers on his chest, holds him in place so he can’t lean up to kiss her like she knows he wants to. He’s solid and steady beneath her, and she _loves_ the way that feels. 

Her phone starts ringing in her back pocket, and he tells her to leave it, but she sits up (she loves the way he groans, too) and reaches for it, sees that it’s Alaric’s number, which means it’s either the girls, or it’s about the girls. 

She answers and hears, “Mommy!” shouted from two little voices. She moves off of Klaus and turns her back to him, and she’s already wondering why she’s so distinctly putting space between _this_ and her life in Mystic Falls. 

… … …

She’s woken in the middle of the night by Klaus dropping his distraught daughter into Caroline’s bed. 

Yeah. Super. 

She can hear a ton of activity in the house now that she’s awake, and Klaus literally lifts Caroline’s arm and puts it around Hope. It doesn’t bother Caroline at all, but she does want to know what the hell is going on. 

“Klaus.”

“Stay here with her. I’ll be back. Don’t worry.” 

Yeah, right. 

Hope cries harder, and she’s doing that thing kids do where they’re crying so hard they can barely breathe. Caroline sits up more, puts both arms around the girl and meets Klaus’ eyes. He just shakes his head like there’s no time to explain. She wants a million times more information than she knows he’s going to give her right now. 

He kisses Hope’s forehead and then sets his hand on Caroline’s cheek, presses his lips to hers harder than she thought he would. 

“Stay here,” he repeats. What’s incredible, Caroline thinks, is that he could just compel her to do it, but he chooses to trust her instead. 

He leaves, and it takes about 20 minutes to get Hope to stop crying. Another 20 after that, she’s asleep, all tucked up next to Caroline’s side and gripping Caroline’s shirt so hard her little knuckles are white. Caroline, however, is wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling until she hears any little sound, then they dart around the room, mainly to the door and the window. Hope whimpers at one point as if she’s in pain, and Caroline is freaked the hell out, because yeah, she’s been working on figuring out how supernatural kids feel things in the world, but Hope is literally the only hybrid child Caroline knows. 

At one point, she hears a wail so loud Caroline covers one ear with her free hand. Hope’s eyes snap open, but then close again once the screaming has stopped. 

Yeah, this is some horror movie shit, and Caroline can barely deal with it. 

The sun is beginning to rise when she hears him coming up the stairs. Everyone is back - him, Hayley, Marcel, Elijah - and Caroline feels she might start crying any second. If he’s hurt…

He opens the door and she glances over at him. He’s a bit dirty, has a bloody lip and there’s a gash in his shirt and his side, and Caroline might lose it.

Hayley’s right behind him, though, and looking much better off than he is. She thanks Caroline quietly, scoops Hope up in her arms and whisks the girl out of the room, closes the door behind her. 

Klaus walks over and practically collapses onto the bed. She has this stupid thought that he’s going to get the bedding dirty before realizing a, this won’t be the first time, and b, he can absolutely afford new stuff.

Her hand brushes through his hair at his temple and he closes his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Small issue with some visiting witches. It’s been taken care of.” Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. He opens his eyes, then, looks up at her. “Every few months, someone comes in search of her.” 

 

Caroline blinks. “Hope?” He nods once, seems a little bothered that she’s slow on the uptake. 

She very nearly asks why, but then, she thinks, she knows what her girls are desired for, and she can only imagine the amount of magic and blood and whatever else is inside that little girl. Maybe it’d be good to know someday, but now’s not the time to go asking for details.

“I knew you’d protect her,” Klaus says, answering another one of the questions Caroline had. Like, he’s worried about Hope and he leaves her alone in this house with Caroline? She’s not naive enough to think there wasn’t a wall of vampires or hybrids surrounding the place, but even so. “I’m sorry to have just…”

“No, it’s fine.” Her eyes move down to his side, to the wound that’s bleeding heavily enough to make her really wonder what caused it and when it might heal. She shifts a bit, sits up on her knees. “Take your shirt off.”

“Beg pardon?” he asks with a smirk. 

“Oh, my god. I’m not coming onto you.” She jabs her finger towards the gash. “That’s disgusting. Take your shirt off or get out of my bed.”

He lets out this tiny sound from the back of his throat. Yes, she knows exactly how her words sounded.

He does as he’s told, though. She takes a second to just look at him, shirtless on her bed and weak from whatever things he had to do tonight, and probably from blood loss. 

Caroline takes his chin in her hand, kisses him, says, “Don’t move,” and runs downstairs. 

She gets a glass of blood from Marcel, who’s tending to his own wounds in the parlour. The glass is warm, but she is not about to ask where (or who) the blood came from. She asks him if he’s okay, and he insists he’s fine, that he just took a few punches but he’ll be good as new by noon. She almost asks where the first aid kit is - habit from having so many humans in her life these days - but stops herself before she sounds silly. She takes some spare towels from a random closet whose door she opens. She passes Klaus the blood when she gets back to her room, heads straight for the en suite to dampen the towels with warm water. 

“You don’t have to play nurse,” he insists, and he’s taking small sips from his glass, which strikes her as odd. Odd enough to worry her, anyway. She presses the warm cloth to his side hard enough that he hisses, and she looks down at him with her brow raised. “Bedside manner could use some work.”

“Would you like to be in bed alone?” she asks, and starts wiping away some of the blood from his skin.

“Certainly not, darling.” 

His fingertips trail up the inside of her thigh and she just swats at his hand and shakes her head as she laughs. 

“Leave it to you to touch me when you’re literally bleeding from an open wound.”

He stops moving his hand, but it’s still right there in the same spot, and then his other one comes over to still her movements with the towel.

“I want to touch you always,” he tells her, so softly she can’t do anything but believe him. She doesn’t mean to hurt him when she starts moving again, but she seems to have gotten to the deepest part of the wound, and he almost yelps. Caroline pulls her hand away all together, looks him in the eye in search of a cue for what to do next. “They fashioned some kind of sword from the ruins of an ancient church in Norway.” Caroline wears her ‘what the fuck?’ all over her face. “It’s fine now. Destroyed.”

What strikes her is how familiar, how normal all this terror is. Like, oh, people are just out in the world making weapons to kill the people she cares about, and at this point she’s been living with that for so long it’s just _the way it is_. Even the last couple years of no mayhem, little trouble, and she slips back into _this_ with an ease that should scare the shit out of her. 

And that’s what it’d be like with him. Decades and decades of dodging death and cleaning up wounds. Until, at least, he moves somewhere no one knows him. Safe to say that as long as his daughter is alive, he’s going to be where she is, and from what Caroline can tell, that place is going to be right here where he has the means - and the army, frankly - to protect her. 

The only thing more terrifying than all that is living her life entirely alone. 

She’s got most of the blood wiped away and his eyes are closed and he’s probably exhausted, but Caroline leans down and presses her lips to his chest, right above his heart. His hand, as if instinctual, presses into the hair at the back of her head. He pulls, just gently, to bring her upward so her lips are just above his. 

“What was that for?” he asks, and Caroline shakes her head. 

“It’s just a lot. All this.” 

“You could leave.” 

Caroline laughs out loud, presses her lips right against his, hard, and feels his fingers massage the back of her head. 

“Don’t be stupid, Niklaus,” she nearly whispers, and then reaches for his belt buckle and _god_ , the way he says her name…

… … …

She isn’t honestly expecting him to be there when she wakes up. 

Whatever. Something about the way he seems to treat people made her think he’d be gone. She probably should have known she’s different; he treats her like she’s different. 

He’s sleeping next to her and she sits up without waking him, checks his side to see the wound is healed and there’s just a faint pink line left, which will probably be gone the next time she looks. She thinks this is the most peaceful she’s ever seen him. It’s a bit scary, because she had the same thought when she saw him with Hope for the first time. But this...He actually looks like just a normal guy, like he didn’t just slay an entire coven and like he hasn’t got the weight of a thousand years of memories. 

Caroline gets out of bed, makes sure to cover him with the blanket again - and yeah, it does feel a little strange to treat him so delicately - and tiptoes to the bathroom. She turns the water on to draw a bath and looks at herself in the mirror as she waits for the tub to fill. Her hair’s a disaster and she’s not wearing any makeup; she’s been in bed since last night. Her sleep schedule has gotten completely messed up on this trip, and really, it’s not even much of a bother to her. This is how things used to be in Mystic Falls, too. 

She looks beneath the sink for something to put in the bath and finds some fancy-looking lavender bath milk, drops some in, and then there are hands on her hips and he’s pressed right against her. Klaus kisses the back of her shoulder and murmurs, “What’s this?” 

There’s a sarcastic comment right on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t want to ruin anything.

“I find baths relaxing.” 

His hand slides down, then, cups her ass and she feels his breath on her skin. “Your body’s exquisite.” 

She turns in his arms, and yeah, they’re both fully naked and this entire thing could and should probably scare the shit out of her, but she just drapes her arms over his shoulders and says, “A little off topic,” though she’s 100% positive he doesn’t care in the slightest. “Wanna get in with me?” 

He raises one brow, looks her body up and down completely, says, “Tempting, my love.” 

Oh. Okay. The ‘my’ is new. Caroline holds back any kind of reaction, because as insane as it is, she just doesn’t want to _talk_ about anything with him right now. She’s enjoying this, and them talking usually means yelling or one of them pissed at the other. She likes the way they are when they don’t ruin it with words. 

God, that’s gotta be unhealthy. 

“Shower, at least,” she suggests gently. She’s not going to tell him he stinks, but he’s definitely smelled better. 

She gets into the water and angles her head so she has a good view of him through the glass shower door. She can’t say she feels any kind of shame for that at all. He looks a little lost in thought as he lets the water run over his body, but then he catches her eye and this little smile he has for her...She could really get used to seeing that. She really could. 

He steps out and reaches for a towel, but Caroline flicks some water at him and tips her head back once she has his attention.

He is so, so naked, and she’s not ready to stop looking.

“Careful,” he says, running his hand over her shoulder, and kneeling next to the bath. “You’ll embarrass me at this rate.” 

“The great Klaus Mikaelson, embarrassed?” she teases. 

“Only by you.” 

She assumes he’s talking about old issues, old instances, when she wasn’t afraid to call him out on his shit. She still isn’t, obviously. 

Either way, she rolls her eyes. 

“Where are you going?” she asks when he does actually secure the towel around his hips. 

“Some things to tend to.” He checks his side in the mirror, and, once he sees it’s completely healed, turns around and kneels next to the tub so he’s eye level with her. “You’ll stay here.”

Yeah, what?

Caroline narrows her eyes. “Is that an order?”

He sighs, shakes his head. He’s either annoyed by her question or doesn’t want to explain why he’s putting her on house arrest. She doesn’t know how else to say that she doesn’t need him to protect her. Then again, she knows that feeling, too, of wanting to make sure the people you care about just...just don’t _die_.

“Just need to make sure there’s no more threat,” he explains. He brushes his thumb against her cheek. It feels nice, but if he thinks it excuses his behaviour, he’s wrong. 

“I could help, you know.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” The way he says it makes her think he absolutely knows she’s being serious and that she’s more than capable. “No one knows you. They’ll be on edge as is. Let me handle this one.” 

She raises her brow. “That makes it sound like you’ll let me come next time.” 

Klaus takes a breath. “That makes it sound like you’ll be here for the next time.” She doesn’t know what to say to that; says nothing. Klaus smiles sadly, like the smile he’s always given when he’s genuinely hurt by someone. “Right.” He kisses her forehead, and before she can say anything; “I’ll be back later.”

She says his name, but he walks right out the door.

… … …

She doesn’t appreciate being stopped from going outside. It’s completely ridiculous, and yet, the second her hand is on the doorknob to leave the compound, Marcel is behind her telling her she should stay indoors. 

Oh, really? 

When she turns around, he’s smiling at her, at least, and seems prepared for whatever she’s going to say. She decides to keep her mouth closed and just look at him with her arms crossed instead. 

“He said he’d kill me if I let anything happen to you,” he explains, and Caroline lets out a scoff and shakes her head. “I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t hesitate.” 

“Yeah, well.” Intelligent, Caroline. “He also left, himself.”

No, she’s still not over it. Maybe she messed up and said the wrong thing (or, really, didn’t say the right thing, at least) but Klaus still walked away instead of having a conversation that might have been difficult. 

“He thinks he’s invincible,” Marcel says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. She’s got nothing to say to that; he’s right. “I think you’re the only one who shows him that he isn’t.” 

She’s confused. “I don’t…” 

 

Marcel grins, tilts his head. “He’s got feelings he doesn’t know what to do with.” 

“I am so…” Okay, she’s yelling. She takes a breath, and the thing she likes about Marcel is that he just stands and waits for her to say what she wants to say. “I’m so sick of people trying to justify the shit he does by saying he doesn’t know how to process emotions. Like, as if that’s actually a reason to treat people like crap instead of changing his own behaviour.”

“I don’t disagree,” Marcel says diplomatically, hands in the air. She’s not mad at _him_ , so she could probably stand to take it a little easy. 

“And don’t you think he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t want other people talking for him?” She crosses her arms. Marcel doesn’t say anything. “But then again that probably means I’d just never have a single freaking clue about anything.” 

“You scare him.” 

Caroline gives a withering look. “That’s bullshit and you know it. If he were scared, I wouldn’t still be here.” 

Marcel grins. “Not that kind of scared.” 

“I know what you meant,” she says, and god, she likes him but he’s being annoying; naive, even. 

It’s really odd to her to think that maybe she knows Klaus better than this guy does, even though she’s known him for so many fewer years. God, is it even possible that Klaus actually _is_ more open to her than he is to others? She knows his typical reaction is to just lash out and like, kill people, but still. It shouldn’t be special that he actually seems to indicate that he has a soul when he’s in her presence. 

“Did he at least say when he was coming back?” she asks, because this argument, or conversation, or whatever is just making her think too hard and she’s been doing enough of that already. She wants to just _talk_ to Klaus and have him tell her flat out what he wants from her. 

Marcel shrugs. 

“Wanna watch Chopped and drink champagne?”

Caroline blinks and she _knows_ her face lights up a little too much. 

She loops her arm through his and he laughs when she says, “I do think you and I will get along just fine.” 

(She thinks about what Klaus said before, about her being here, and it’s probably totally stupid to bond with the people in his life, but...Well, at this point it’s no stupider than bonding with the people in her _own_.) 

… … …

She’s standing on one of the terraces, glass of champagne in her hand and stupidly, absently thinking about getting another tattoo, when she sees him walking down the street. Even amongst a crowd of tourists and whomever else is down there walking around, he stands out like some kind of model. God, he’s hot. 

Even thinking that seems like it reduces this thing to just sex, which it isn’t. It could be. Maybe. Like, she could visit here and sleep with him and then go back to her life in Mystic Falls when she gets bored or starts missing her kids too much. But this isn’t that. She doesn’t think she even wants it to be. Maybe her younger self would have wanted it, would have kept him at an arm’s length because why bother with feelings when feelings mean pain and sex means pleasure? But then Tyler happened and Stefan happened, and _yes_ , the pain is like, absolutely crushing, but that’s only because she loved both of them so much. And she wouldn’t trade that, even now, not for anything. 

And that’s the thing about Klaus, right? He’s got thicker skin - literally, maybe. He’s less fragile. Stronger, anyway. He’s more powerful and more savvy and knows how to defend himself. He’s seen it all, or most of it, and he’s come out alive. There’s something about that. It’s compelling. Endearing, even. She thinks it could mean less of the worst feelings she’s ever felt. 

She doesn’t think she’s in love with him.

But then he’s standing right behind her, arms on either side of her and pressing against the railing, and she thinks maybe she could be. 

He kisses her right on the back of her shoulder. Right in the spot she was just thinking she’d never get a tattoo.

She turns in his arms and he moves to kiss her. She leans back, arching over the railing. Klaus’ hand presses between her shoulder blades like he’s afraid she’s going to fall. As if that would really hurt her anyway.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks. It’s a blunt and terrifying thing to ask, but it’s out there now and she won’t take it back. 

“I do. Very much.” 

Yeah, okay. 

She puts the hand that isn’t holding her glass right on the back of his neck. His skin is tacky with sweat, the ends of his hair a little damp. She likes it. She likes that when you get a little closer, you start to see that he’s not as much of a fortress as he seems. 

“Why?” she asks, and that part came out quieter than she wanted it to; insecure.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you,” he says quietly, eyes on hers. She loves that. “I don’t want to stop wanting you. I’d like to know all there is to know about you.” 

She grins a little, scratches his neck with her nails. “You sound like a movie.” 

“So be it,” he says seriously. “It’s the truth.” He waits a beat. She takes a breath. “I’ve never lied to you.” 

She knows what that means. He said he’d wait for her. He said he’d leave her alone. 

He said he wanted to be her last love. 

She kisses him, maybe a little more gently than she ever has. She hopes he doesn’t think it means she’s letting him down softly. It’s really the opposite. She finally feels like maybe she’s ready to let go of all the things that have been holding her back from doing this, with him. It feels heavy and scary and everything is still a mess, but all that matter less than it used to. It really does.

“I know you’ve got to go back,” he says, forehead pressed against hers. 

“I don’t have to go right now,” she tells him, and his fingertips dig into her hips a little. “You could come with me.” He laughs, his breath hitting her lips. She draws back a bit, smiles and takes a sip of her champagne. “Don’t you want to see the looks on everyone’s faces?” 

“Not particularly.” He really needs to lighten up. She was mostly joking. (Though she does think it would be absolutely fine if he did visit.) “What’s your plan?”

Caroline shrugs. For once in her life, she doesn’t have one. “I feel like I need you more than anyone in Mystic Falls needs me.” 

“Oh, love.” She looks up at him again. He pushes her hair off her face. “That can’t be true.”

She doesn’t know if he means that she doesn’t need him that much, or if everyone else needs her more. It seems important and she wants to ask, but then he kisses her. 

“I can’t leave,” he says, which she knew already, but nonetheless appreciates. She likes this honesty. She likes this whole conversation. She thinks maybe she’s been hard on him, because he probably would have been this candid with her if she’d let him. Oops.

“I’ll come to you,” she says, and it comes out as almost a whisper. 

“Promise?” His fingertips dance over the side of her throat. It feels intimate, not intimidating. He’s gentle with her.

She nods.

She thinks she could be with him forever.


End file.
